


Show Me Going

by ProneToRelapse



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Connor, Detective Husbands, Drama, Established Relationship, Hank is actually a sentimental old softy, Hostage Situations, Humour sort of..., M/M, Police Procedural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15070307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: Connor responds to an active shooter situation. Hank worries. Gavin attempts decent interaction.





	Show Me Going

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [康纳警探在行动 A translation of Show Me Going by ProneToRelapse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15547185) by [sherrystoneage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherrystoneage/pseuds/sherrystoneage)



> This was heavily inspired by the Brooklyn Nine Nine episode "Show Me Going" were Rosa responds to an active shooter situation and everyone panics. I wanted to explore that dynamic with my favourite detective boys. All inaccuracies are my own inability to google shit properly.

Hank’s nerves are shot to all shit. The terminal screen in front of him blurs in and out of focus too frequently for him to get any more work done now. He glances at the clock. Jesus, it’s almost three in the morning. 

A quick glance around the bullpen shows various other officers in not much better condition. Even Reed is subdued, thank god for small mercies. The only ones who are still moving around with any purpose and efficiency are the androids, but even their faces are pinched with something close to exhaustion. 

Chris pulls Hank out of his sleep-deprived musings with a hand on his shoulder. He has a steaming cup of coffee in his hand that Hank takes with a grateful grunt. He’s too tired for much else. 

“You should probably go home,” Chris says. “Fowler’ll let you. You’ve been here for too long.”

Hank shakes his head, stopping short of downing the entire cup of caffeinated coffee-approximation. “I gotta finish a few things up. Can’t let Connor get all the credit.” He glances over at Connor’s empty desk. The android is out chasing a lead. Hank wanted to follow, but this case has strung him out something awful. Connor had outright refused to take him. It stung, to be left behind, but the softness in Connor’s eyes as he’d told him to stay had lessened the injury somewhat. 

“ _I can handle this, Hank,”_ he’d said. “ _You’re exhausted. Stay here, at least, if you won’t go home and rest. There are a few files I’ve forwarded to you that you can take a look at. If you see anything that could help, please let me know.”_

_“You don’t need to come up with shit for me to do so I feel useful,”_ Hank had grumbled. 

_“You’re exhausted,”_  Connor said again.  _“If this lead checks out and something happens to you, I don’t know what I’d do.”_

Hank had agreed, begrudgingly, to stay behind. 

The case itself has been a heavy burden on their shoulders these past two weeks. It’s even taken its toll on Connor, cracking his usual straightforward, cool façade. It hurts him to see things like this and, while Hank certainly finds it distressing, he’s had longer to build up a thicker skin. 

There’s still something about seeing a cracked white chassis leaking blue onto the floor that sits uncomfortably in his stomach. 

An android and his husband. Found dead in their home, red and blue blood splattered across kitchen tiles. The human had gotten off lightly, a single bullet hole to the temple. The android had been beaten to death, dismembered and dismantled, head caved in with a murder weapon that hadn’t been found. 

Connor had been even more subdued when they got home. It was hard to see after Hank had gotten so used to those sharp bursts of emotion Connor had begun to show with increasing frequency. Head down, LED whirring a steady yellow as he processed what he’d seen. 

He’d barely spoken, crawling into Hank’s arms on the sofa and just staring off into space. Hank hadn’t said anything either, just held him, fingers carding through impossible soft brown curls. 

And as much as Hank wants to be beside Connor while he chases this lead, he’s confident in his partner’s ability to handle himself. 

Connor’s a damn good detective. 

“What was the lead?” Chris asks, drawing Hank back to the present. He rubs a hand over his face as he flicks through the file. 

“Last known address of the suspect’s son,” Hank says. “They never registered as returning to Detroit after the evac was lifted, but we contacted his sister in Chicago and she said he’s not been with her for months. Figured we should check it out in case he slipped in under the radar.”

Chris hums thoughtfully, browsing the file over Hank’s shoulder. “Never owned an android?”

“Not that we know of.”

“Wonder what kind of motive he’d have.”

“I’d quite like to know myself,” Hank mutters. The abysmal coffee has at least taken the dimming edge off of his vision. He’ll be good for another couple of hours until either Connor comes back or he collapses.

Fowler comes out of his office with a grave look on his face. Exhaustion has made his countenance ever sterner. All heads turn to look. 

“Listen up, people,” his voice carries across the precinct. “We have an active shooter situation in downtown Detroit. All available units will be heading to the area to help secure civilians. This precinct is on lockdown until further notice.”

“Shit,” Chris breathes and Hank rubs his hands over his face with no small amount of despair. As if this night couldn’t get any worse. 

“I’m taking the break room couch,” Gavin says at once. “If I’ve gotta stay here all fuckin’ night and day, I’m not sleeping at my desk.”

“Oh, fuck off, Reed, let the old man rest his weary bones in  _some_ comfort,” Hank shoots back. 

“Bite me, Lieutenant.”

“Alright, you little shit-“

“ _Enough_ _._ ” Fowler’s growl silences them both. 

The atmosphere is heavy as Officer Chen mans the radio, and the report comes out clear. Everyone is silent as they listen. 

_“_ _Code_ _246, all available units please respond._ _Shooter has multiple hostages.”_

_“462, show me going.”_

_“980, show me going.”_

_“643, show me going.”_

The badge numbers keep coming as more officers head to the scene. Tension crackles through the room as they listen. 

_“Code 10-00. Multiple officers down. 11-41,_ _respond_ _.”_

“ _Shit,_ ” Fowler curses. 

_“_ _218, show me going.”_

_“105, show me going.”_

_“313, show me going.”_

Everything in Hank’s vision narrows down to one singular point. Fear, thick and heavy, rolls in his gut as Connor’s voice, clear and determined, crackles from the scanner. 

“That’s…” Chris swallows hard. “That’s Connor’s badge number.”

Hank is out of his seat and halfway to the door before Fowler can bark after him. 

“Lieutenant, we are on  _lockdown._ ”

“Like  _fuck_  I’m gonna stay here while he’s out there getting himself shot-“

“Remain where you are, Lieutenant, that is an  _order._ ”

“You can shove your fucking-“

_“313 negotiator on site._ _Code 5150._ _Code 6. All further units stay out of area.”_

Officer Chen clicks the receiver. “10-4,” she says, looking everywhere but at Hank. 

“Let him do his job,” Fowler says firmly. “You’ll only get yourself killed.”

Hank bristles with rage. “If you think I’m just gonna sit here, that you don’t have a  _fuckin_ _’_  clue-“

The scanner crackles again. 

_“10-39, 326.”_

That’s Hank’s badge number. That’s Connor’s voice. 

_Can Lieutenant Anderson come to the radio._

Hank’s across the room in seconds, snatching the receiver from Chen’s hand. “Connor? Are you there?  _Connor?_ ”

There’s a horrific pause in which Hank feels he may very well be sick. 

_“I’m here, Lieutenant.”_

Hank knees almost buckle. “Jesus Christ. What’s going on?”

_“Our suspect is inside with multiple hostages. We’ve got three officers down. It’s_ _Lewinski_ _. We were right, he slipped through when the evacuation was lifted. I’m going to speak with him now.”_

“Connor, he’ll kill you.”

_“The possibility sits at 64.8 per cent_ _that he’ll engage violently when I enter_ _. I’m working on lowering it before I interact. Stay in the precinct, Lieutenant._ _”_

With a click, he’s gone. Hank can feel the weight of eyes heavy on his back. He wordlessly hands the radio back to Chen and storms off to the break room. Gavin can eat a dick. Hank’s taking the couch. 

—

Connor shrugs off his jacket to slip on the Kevlar vest one of the officers hands him. Once strapped in he declines the ear piece and taps into the radio frequency with his LED. Eight police cars have responded to the scene. Luckily Connor was close enough. The address he’d visited had been empty, but the walls were strewn with enough evidence to lock James Lewinski down for a very long time. 

Then the report had come through on his radio and Connor had responded instantly. 

Lewinski has three hostages inside. Two women and a young boy. One of the women is an android. He’s threatening to shoot her unless Connor goes in unarmed. 

Connor unstraps his holster and hands it off to an officer who gives him a respectful nod. 

“Get him, Anderson,” she says, expression pinched with concern. Connor inclines his head in return and heads towards the building. His thumb rubs over the band on his left ring finger. He misses his coin. This will have to suffice. 

—

“You doing okay?”

Hank doesn’t move his arm away from where it’s thrown over his face. He’s lying across the couch in the break room, feet propped up on the arm. 

“Take a wild fuckin’ guess, Reed.”

He hears the coffee machine whir as it fills a plastic cup with its hot shit-water. 

“He’ll be okay,” Reed says quietly. “You know he’s probably the most qualified to handle this shit.”

“Reed, I’m not it the mood, alright?”

“Look, I’m just saying. I know you’re worried, I get it. Hell, we all are. But if anyone’s got a chance of getting that piece of shit to stand down, it’s Connor.”

“What prompted the change of heart?”

Reed is quiet for long enough that Hank lifts his arm to peer at him through narrowed eyes. He’s staring into his coffee, expression troubled.

“I guess… I’d be worried too. If it was me. I’d be shit scared.”

“That’s so fucking reassuring.  _Thank_  you, Detective Reed.”

Reed scowls. “I’m trying to be fucking nice, don’t be an asshole.”

“I love it when you pretend to be human.”

“Oh, suck my fucking balls, you miserable old bastard.”

Hank snorts. “I’ll take a hard pass on that.”

Reed sighs, sips his coffee, sighs again. “He’ll come back. You watch, He’ll swan in here with his stupid face, just to inconvenience me. Don’t tell me your robo-husband has never done anything out of spite.”

“Gavin.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

—

Connor enters the house with his hands up.

“Mr Lewinski,” he says slowly, calmly. “My name is Detective Connor Anderson. I’m here to help you.”

“Like  _fuck_  you are!” Lewinski spits. He has an arm round the neck of an android, gun pressed hard against the side of her head. She’s crying, eyes wide with fear. Her wife and son are cowering beside the fridge, just behind Lewinski’s legs. 

There’s a kitchen island between them. Connor assesses his surroundings. 

“These people have done nothing wrong,” Connor says, palms still raised. “I can help you, but you need to let them go.”

“Not a fucking chance. Get me a fucking car. When I’m out of the city, those two can go. This one stays with me.”

“Not an option,” Connor says. “You killed six people, James.”

“They weren’t  _people_!”

Connor’s LED whirs. He watches himself launch over the island. He can’t get to Lewinski before he shoots. The android will die if he moves. He catches her eye. 

“What’s your name?” 

She struggles, fresh tears welling up. “Louise.”

“Everything is going to be okay, Louise.”

“Don’t fucking talk to her!” Lewinski shouts. Louise flinches with a whimper. The barrel of the gun presses harder against her head. 

“Her?” Connor questions. “I thought she wasn’t a person?”

“She— She isn’t.”

“She’s married, Lewinski. She has a wife and a son. They’re behind you. They’re so frightened. Louise, what’s your son’s name?”

“Toby,” Louise sobs. The little boy clutches at his human mother, he’s marble white with terror. Connor analyses. 

“Toby has epilepsy,” Connor says, looking back at Lewinski. “You’re about to trigger a seizure. The boy could die, James. You’ve not killed a human yet. You’ve not killed a child. This boy will die unless you let them go.”

Lewinski’s hand shakes. 

Connor moves forward. 

—

The scanner stays silent. Hank doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. 

He can’t sit still. He paces, he fidgets, he walks the length of the precinct and back. He pulls at his hair, scratches his arms. 

He feels so far beyond useless it’s unbearable. 

Chris is falling asleep at his desk. Reed is watching something on his phone. Hank is going insane. 

He slumps back down at his desk with a heavy sigh. It’s long been cleared of the hateful anti-android messages he’d plastered across it over a year ago. Now there are more photos than anything else. There’s a photo of Cole that is relatively painless to look at now. Several of Sumo with Hank or Connor or both of them. There’s one of Connor on his first day as a detective, smiling shyly in his uniform. Several others Hank can remember taking vividly. The one that catches his eye now is a the most professionally shot one of them all. Soft focus, Hank with his beard trimmed, hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, wearing a flattering grey three-piece. He looks younger. Beside him, Connor looks devastatingly handsome in blue, a smile on his face brighter than the fucking sun.

Hank twists his wedding band round his finger anxiously. 

If some fucker with a gun takes this away from him, all Hank’s newfound hope for humanity will be lost. 

And Connor won’t be there to pull him back from it this time.

“Anderson.”

“What.”

Fowler casts a shadow over Hank’s desk. He tears his gaze away from the wedding photo to squint up at the captain. Fowler is looking at the photos. The tension around his eyes softens somewhat. 

“Your sentimentality surprises me.”

Hank huffs. “Yeah, well. I spent a long time dwelling on all the bad shit. Figured it was a good idea to remind myself of the good.”

“That’s a nice idea.”

“What fuckin’ good is it gonna do me,” Hank growls, “if he doesn’t come back?”

Fowler doesn’t answer immediately. He folds his arms, expression guarded. “It is what it is.”

“What kind of piece of shit garbage advice is that, Jeffery?! Fucking Christ, who the fuck says that?!”

“You’ve been to hell and back before,” Fowler says. “You can do it again.”

Hank laughs. It’s hollow. “Not without him I can’t.”

“Captain?” Officer Chen interrupts them warily. Both Hank and Fowler look over. The scanner crackles with static. 

_“10-26. Suspect_ _in custody. Area secure_ _. All units—_ _”_

Hank stands abruptly, throwing his chair back. “I’m going.”

Fowler narrows his eyes. “We’re in lockdown until I say otherwise, Lieutenant.”

“No offence, Captain, but kiss the darkest part of my lily-white—“

“Really, Lieutenant. Your professionalism is abysmal.”

Hank turns his head so fast he gives himself whiplash. Connor strides into the bullpen, eyes fixed solely on Hank. 

“Oh, you bastard,” Hank says. He’s smiling. “You fuckin’ bastard.” 

Pulling Connor into his arms chases away the last vestiges of his adrenaline-fuelled anxiety. Connors hands clutch at the back of his jacket and he buries his face in Hank’s neck. 

“I was so fucking scared,” Hank whispers, eyes pricking. “I don’t know what I’d’ve done—“

“I’m here, Hank,” Connor says. “I’d never leave you.”

“Alright, everyone, fuck off. Let’s go home, put this shitty night behind us.” Fowler’s words spur everyone into moving. Hank pulls away from Connor, but refuses to let go of his hand. 

“Jesus, get a room,” Reed mutters. 

“Eat a  _dick_ , Gavin,” Connor snaps. 

**Author's Note:**

> I researched police codes as best I could. Also Hank has no official badge number, so I made one up. Connor's is 313 because that's the first part of his serial number.
> 
> 246 - Shooting in inhabited dwelling.  
> 10-00 - Officer down, requesting backup  
> 11-41 - Ambulance required  
> 5150 - Suspected mental case  
> Code 6 - Stay out of area  
> 10-4 - Received and understood  
> 10-39 - Can [requested officer badge number] come to the radio  
> 10-26 - Clear


End file.
